Shatterbelt
by Shamekeeper12
Summary: Theirs is a world of fragments. Without the country that once unified them, different tribes have fallen into an endless cycle of civil war. In the village of Crionac, some seek to change that.
1. Truth Without Words

**~Truth Without Words~**

* * *

><p>Out here, we do not look both ways before we cross the road, nor do we carry a heavy load. Groups of four, groups of five, cross the street before they die. Nation's quarrel, nouveau's scorn, shot in the back by an Iron Thorn.<p>

Since the fall of the Kingdom… _our_ Kingdom, my homeland has been engaged in civil war. Once, there was a king. Once, there was a cause. Now, there are kings. Now, there are causes. Once, there was a people. Now, there are peoples. These peoples are seven tribes. I live in Crionac, a village of one of these tribes. We are situated in a narrow valley; and our rival stations its warriors on the crest of the mountaintops. There, they target practice. Here, we are targets. If, say, anyone were to cross a street in Crionac, the snipers on the mountaintops would do one of two things. He would hurl an Iron Thorn, or use a move—either of which could kill despite the distance. Most of us stay indoors most of the time, some roam freely. I like to call them idiots.

I met one such idiot as I suddenly found myself intending to cross the street to resupply my pantry which had just been depleted. I hid behind the wall of some building, having knowledge of where the snipers had been positioned.

He was a mienfoo, and his name was George. I didn't find that out until later.

"What do you have," I asked, "in your paw?"

What he held was a rather large cut of cloth, wrapped about a thin wooden branch. I recognized a particular flag. Our Kingdom's banner. "The old one," he answered.

"And just what do you think you're going to do with that?"

He looked at me, and did so oddly. It was as if I was a youngster, that I wouldn't understand. His eyes did not bear the same hatred as everyone else. No, instead they held something very different. It was a resolve that could not be suppressed, a sadness that could not be consoled, a mind that could not be brought to reason. He did not answer my question.

"Look," said he, pointing to town square, "you see that open space? You think… those snipers can see from up there?"

"Why?" I asked again. "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to cross the street," he said.

"But why that way?" I pressed further. "Why not cross here, where I'm about to?"

"To get to the other side," he said.

"But that's suicide! Every sniper in those mountains can see you. They'll aim for _you_."

He sighed. "Then maybe… they won't aim for you."

With that, he turned to walk, and I was stunned at his direction, for he walked in open space. "What are you doing? Wait—stop!"

His pace did not slow, nor did it quicken; but by this time, he was in nearing the center of Crionac's town square. I advanced as if to give chase, but an Energy Ball struck the wall just as I exposed myself. The bricks seemed to explode as hefty chunks of plaster were thrown in my face. I recoiled, stunned by the event. I noticed that the other had turned back to see if I were alright. He nodded my way as I composed myself, then proceeded the final paces to the center of the square.

I then resolved to plead where I stood. "My good man, come back before you die!"

He only shook his head. Taking the branch in his hands, he began to unfurl the banner as an Iron Thorn ricocheted off the dirt an inch from his foot. He didn't even flinch. Then, in a swift stroke, he held the flag high, and stretched it upon the sky. For a fleeting second, I saw the Old Flag in its old glory. The colors were faded, but were there regardless. The fabric was torn, but was there regardless. It was then that I saw his resolve, I saw his sadness, and I saw his mind.

I saw truth without words.

I also saw, then, that seconds pass too quickly. I heard a loud crack ring out from the mountainside; as if the ancient hills cried out in response to the gesture. The same instance, he fell, and did not rise.

It was then that I suddenly became aware of the place in which I lived, and the state in which I lived. It was a place of spilled blood, and a state of self-perpetuated misunderstanding. We dare to call ourselves civilized, sentient. Yet, we have no choice but to fall back to our feral roots…. I hate this place.

Out here, we do not look both ways before we cross the road, nor do we carry a heavy load. Groups of four, groups of five, cross the street before they die. Nation's quarrel, nouveau's scorn, shot in the back by an Iron Thorn.

This place… this place, the Shatterbelt.

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by the balkanized Yugoslavian states.<em>


	2. Silence Cave

**~Silence Cave~**

_She was a fugitive from her countrymen._

_Eight hours prior, she was homeward bound, but fire instead, she found. And so she ran, and she grew weary. It was then she found a cave—no less dreary. It was amidst her hunger pangs that she heard a distant bang. The wrath of the clan of the Golden Fang. The strength of her will was not to give, and she resolved, then, to live, and seek shelter in this den._

_ For she was a fugitive from her countrymen._

* * *

><p>She stepped, and did so cautiously, for in this cave she was not alone. It was a fact she somehow knew. Her glowing amber eyes were cast from side to side, sweeping away the darkness, almost like the searchlights of those who seek her life. And like those searchlights, they found nothing. Then, there was a faint sound from behind, as of a pebble skittering across the rocky floor. In the same second, she whirled around, seeking source, but was only met with further darkness.<p>

Her heart raced, and her breathless breathing quickened still. All in anticipation of some moment. A moment that she could not anticipate. Something in her mind decided that she had had enough of running and guided her legs toward, somehow disregarding the notion that whatever kept her this secretive company may soon be guilty of her murder.

She readjusted the small satchel she always bought around with her, containing only a few berries, a blanket, and a Blast Seed. She crept forward along the wall, her back pushed up against its face. The meowstic hesitated at a corner, and it was there that with a deep breath, she threw caution out the entrance of the cave, and advanced beyond the cover of the bend.

And there, slumped back against the wall, sat the weary figure of another meowstic.

He was thin, and shivering. His fur was matted and dirty in many places. For the first impression, she felt a pang of pity. It was not until the spotlight of her eyes landed upon the dulled sheen of a gold band about his left arm, that she had another impression.

Her eyes widened slightly, propelled by a sudden burst of adrenaline. "Golden Fang…" she whispered.

They were enemies, her clan and his, and the second later, he too seemed to pick up on this fact. His eyes widened in realization, and he gave a terrified yelp as he forced his back harder into the wall of the cave, as if trying to pass through the rock itself. It was a vain effort to escape the demise he was sure would follow his discovery in this dark corner of the world, undertaken in some pit of despair. He curled into a fetal position, hugging his knees, waiting for his fate. She too withdrew a pace, having the foreknowledge to know he may attack in self-defense.

However, such an action would not come. It was only when she heard his first defeated sob that she knew her male counterpart would pose no threat. Her initial feeling of pity restored, her mind presented itself with two options. Leave, and perhaps, find another place to hide…

…or stay.

To stay. It was an interesting consideration—an option she found herself questioning. Why should she? He was one of _them_. She was being chased by _them_. _He isn't one of us_, she thought. _Then again… who is us? _She considered many things. He's a Psychic-Type, he could tell everyone where she is on the brainwaves… but he wouldn't sell-out a member of his own species… would he? He could attack while her back is turned… but he is in no condition to fight. Golden Fangs never travel alone… so why is he? Would he kill her?

… _Shouldn't 'I' kill 'him'?_

It was a good question. One for which she had no answer. It was a thought she genuinely considered, but it was as if her haloed self sat on her shoulder, and told her

_No… I can't… I won't. Because… _

Her tongue thought first, "You look hurt," she said. "Do you need help?"

He looked at her with a terrified—almost wild eye. Her query was not met with reply, only a shiver, and an unsaid cry of mercy. With a determined breath, she tried a different strategy, and knelt down to his level, taking a small step forward, causing him to recoil slightly. She had a suspicion about him that was not sinister in any way, but she knew it was dangerous. Especially out here.

"Are you sick?" she asked.

Expecting no answer, she held out her digit-less paw. The meowstic ducked down further into the ball that was himself, hiding his face from her. She heard his telepathic plea.

_Please!_

"I won't hurt you," she replied.

The other did not answer. With a huff, she further added, "Let me help you."

She extended her arm further, placing her paw on his forehead, making him flinch. _Oh no,_ _he's really burning up._

"You have a fever," she said.

It became evident to her, obvious through his fever, shivering and shaky breath, that he was sick. By which ailment, she did not know for certain, but she knew it was serious. She then remembered her satchel. Swinging it off her shoulders, she began to rummage through its contents, but despite the effort, the only berries left were Cheri berries. With a frustrated huff, she tossed it to the side. She always intended to restock, but always waited until tomorrow. The thing about tomorrow, it is always the next day.

She cast her eyes back to the balled-up meowstic, then to the entrance of the cave. The sun had fallen, and the dim blue light emanating in the cave had nearly been snuffed out completely. Nightfall was nigh.

Turning back to her counterpart, she couldn't help but eye his constant shivering. At this sight, she felt compelled to aid, but her satchel was yet ill-equipped, holding but a single blanket. Her conscience in conflict, she made a decision apart from the manner of her species. She drew the warming weave from out her bag. Like a fisherman's net, she cast and wrapped it around him. His shivering intensified for a second before the touch of something soft brought his eyes out of the shell he made of himself.

He looked at her, as though confused, and she answered saying, "You can have it for the night. Don't bother asking for water. I'm thirsty myself."

A flash of surprise came over his expression, the kind only kindness can bring. His mouth dropped slightly open, as if to say something; but it closed again, and instead, she heard his thoughts.

_Thank you, _he said.

Nodding in reply, she retrieved the bag itself, and returned to set it like a pillow between her neck and the cave wall as she sat beside him.

"Why are you here?" she asked, passively staring at the opposite wall.

To this, he gave no answer.

She turned to face him, his eyes set at the ground in front of him. She cocked her head slightly. "…Are you mute?"

The meowstic breathed deeply, and for a time, there was silence in the air. So it remained, for the rest was spoken in thoughts. …_I'm running too,_ he said.

_From who?_

_ Everyone._

_ Why?_

It was then he set his eyes on a different line of sight, and met hers. With a sigh he telepathed, _It seems I think too much. Maybe they thought I'd be good at it? I don't understand it. All of a sudden, someone—someone gave the order and… Well, I'm here… and I won't last another day._

_In which case, you better take that off,_ she said, reaching for his arm, and pulling off the gold ribbon. He watched as she stuffed it in her satchel. For later, he supposed.

His neutral expression did not change, save for a single blink. _There goes my life,_ he remarked.

"And _here_ comes _rest_," she said aloud, lying on the floor, resting her head on the bag. "I suggest you sleep too."

And with that, they drifted off.

* * *

><p>In the morning, she was not found in the cave, for she had left on urgent business. Now she finds herself in the empty streets of a pillaged town, the marauders themselves having moved on. She passed by building after deserted building before she turned suddenly, entering into an empty store. But two steps in, she knew it wasn't empty.<p>

"Well," a voice behind the far back counter said. That of a leafeon—one with an axe to grind.

He looked upon her with some air of resentment. The kind of suppressed hatred that only came with the truth of their blood. They knew each other—that was for certain. Such was evident in the tone of his voice. "You. Again?" he snapped boredly.

"Chris, I need your help," she urged, somewhat breathless.

He nodded with a hum. "I thought just as much."

"Please! A friend of mine is very sick. I don't think he'll last another night."

His passive expression of disapproval did not waver for the longest second, as though he spaced out in the middle of her plea. She was about to say his name, but his eyes moved, and the eeveelution sat on his haunches, looking down and away from her. Whether in guilt or consideration, she did not know.

"So you need medicine?" he inferred.

"Yes," she replied quickly.

He took a long breath, and rested his head on his paw. "Is that so?" he asked in rhetoric. He sighed, "All my medicine is reserved for the Golden Fang. But I may have something… Wait here, please."

He left the front counter, and she suddenly felt alone; left behind by someone her mind once called a friend, but what her blood called a fiend. She shivered at the thought, how times have changed. Along this tangent did her thoughts drift, such that she did not notice when Chris returned with a small brown paper bag.

"You know…" he remarked, causing her to blink away her thoughts, "you might not look like it, but you always let your heart get in the way of things."

"... No…" she said with a tone of certainty. "Things get in the way of my heart."

"Well, then you better get it out of the way…" he paused for a second. "See you…"

She nodded, "Th-thank you," and turned to leave.

"And, Katherine!"

She turned to look, and saw the stern face of a 'mon she once knew.

"… This… this whole thing that happened here… doesn't make us friends."

Slowly, she nodded once more. Turning to leave for certain, she stopped in the doorway of the shop, taking in the ashen streets of what was once her hometown.

Next on her mind, what more she left behind.

She couldn't help but note the empty, ash-dusted streets, void of any character save for Golden Fang soldiers. She hid a smug grin as she roamed the streets, having now donned her male counterpart's armband around her left, just as he had worn it. Not that keeping a poker face was hard for her. She took note of its blood stains, and wondered if the other had used it for a bandage. Knowing it could be noticed, she slid it around her arm, but found the whole circumference to be stained with at least one patch of dried blood.

She cringed to think of what kind of wound they came from.

Settling on making the least-stained portion visible, she continued on her way when something trivial passed her mind.

_How could the Golden Fang be so stupid? _

Her thoughts drifted to other things once again, and she found herself in fond remembrance of the old times. To the old, greater Sapphiria, when differences were not by default, before the King died, before the first genocide, before snipers began shooting the townsfolk.

She sighed, how times have changed.

She approached her old home on the outskirts of the town. The doormat that once greeted her every day was now covered in ash, and this time, there was no door. Hers was one of the homes which were razed the day before, and the traces of smoke scratched and cut the inside of her nose. With a heavy heart, she passed through a gateless doorway. She searched about the charred pieces of wood fifteen minutes before she nearly tripped on a heavy metal safe.

She breathed out her stress in a sigh of relief. She found it. Kneeling down to the dusty padlocked, she turned the dial to the numbers of entrance. A minute passed, and it opened, revealing her most precious items.

A box of paper cranes, a watch, and a thing akin to a violin.

She stared a moment at the third, and did so somewhat blankly. She had come from a fairly rich family, and remembered the time when her parents decided it best for her to learn a new discipline in music. She was very young, then when she was first introduced to the concept of a piano. It was one of the few things about her childhood she remembered fondly.

* * *

><p>"<em>I don't like that instrument!"<em>

"_And why is that, Kathy?"_

"_You can't take it with you!"_

* * *

><p>With the slightest of smiles appearing on her face, she took the instrument in her paws, a fragile work of art yearning to be used once more.<p>

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered to herself.

She fixed the satchel about her shoulder, suddenly awash with memories. Feeling dry in the throat, she started for the hills where her obligation lied, and did not look back.

* * *

><p>A small creek ran the length of the forest path which was en-route to the cave, and it was there that she encountered two passing pokemon, neither friendly.<p>

"Hey, you! Mrs. Meowstic" a wartortle shouted, "Where are you going with that stuff? Haven't you finished looting the town?"

"This stuff? I'm… " She panicked. While it was true she did think this through, she didn't count on being noticed—much less confronted by a legitimate Golden Fang. A foolish mistake on her part, she realized. Thinking fast, she answered, "going—to a concert." She held up the violin. "I'm a musician."

A grovyle snorted, "Last I checked, musicians don't have blood on their armbands!"

She gritted her teeth in nervousness. "I got my arm cut passing through town."

"You're lying!" the wartortle accused. "You killed a 'mon and took his armband! Only _soldiers_ wear their armbands on the left!"

_Only soldiers? _she thought,_ he's a soldier? _She found herself waving her paws frantically. "It's not—"

A sudden face-full of water flung her into a tree, the generated momentum tossing her satchel and instrument to the side.

She gasped, the wind knocked clean out of her lungs. Looking up, she saw the wartortle's form charging forth in a Rapid Spin. In the same instant, her ears unfolded, and a mighty shockwave of psychic synergies surged outward. Catching her assailant mid-flight, the wartortle's vector was suddenly transferred to the opposite way, flinging him towards the scythed who ducked before it flew above his head, and crashed into a nearby tree.

With his anger further justified, the grovyle saw it fit to take his turn. Suddenly, his form was three, then six. The Double Team barely started before she suffered a devastating gash brought about by a sword of leaves. Lost in the fury of the attack, she was unable to react as her attacker dropped low, and swept her off her feet with the same Leaf Blade. She hit the ground face-first with a surprised yelp, dirt and dust clawing at her eyes.

There was a momentary pause, and she weakly raised her head from the ground in defiance of her attackers, to find that the grovyle paced about her as a vulture above a battlefield to be. Orbiting, knowing, preparing. Through tear-watered eyes, she saw his triumphant expression, about to deal the finishing blow. For a fleeting moment, she knew all was lost, but she saw her would-be murderer's eyes glance forward. She wondered for a moment before the dark blue body of a certain someone stepped in front of her, spreading his arms in a protective gesture.

"Leave her alone!" he declared, and for the first time, she knew the meowstic's voice. A stern tone, enfeebled by time spent unpracticed. She suddenly came upon a realization. He wasn't mute at all. He just didn't know what to say.

A look of passive surprise came upon the Grass-type's countenance. The wartortle returned, having recovered from her psychic blast, and took a battle stance beside the grovyle.

The former only smirked, "If you insist."

"Meowstic!" she snapped smarting, only then deciding what to call him. "What are you doing? You're sick."

"I'm alive," he corrected.

"Not for long!"

With the grovyle surging forward, the semi-able meowstic made no waste of time. She ducked her head as he threw up a barrier, the full force of Fury Cutter bearing down upon them. She knew at this rate, neither of them would last too long, already seeing the wartortle charging with his own attack. She put her head on a swivel, searching, questioning, wondering, fearing. Then her eyes set upon her satchel set afar off. A sudden, simple thought crossed her mind.

_Blast Seed__._

And suddenly, she knew their salvation rested on a single seed of uncertainty. Then, her counterpart grunted.

"I can't hold it—miss, run!"

With her destination already set, she bolted, just as his Protect shattered above them, raining pieces of psychic plaster. Soon again, the onslaught came, and almost immediately, her counterpart was overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of attacks.

Thrown to the ground, he managed to set off a single ball of darkened energy in defiance, striking the grovyle in the face, temporarily stalling their momentum.

The battlefield was void of violence for the longest second. With the enemy now set at some distance, the meowstic recovered, standing defiantly on weak knees, the grovyle wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, and Katherine had gotten to her satchel without being noticed—now rummaging to find the one Blast Seed she carried with her.

She cast an anxious glance towards the battle afar. Two sides, same clan. Both about to deal decisive blows whilst standing in the midst of the creek.

How times have changed.

"She's wearing _your_ armband," the wartortle shouted. "Isn't she?"

He would have no answer, for the meowstic was already on the attack, barreling through the wading waters of the creek with a nasty Sucker Punch. The wartortle of the two moved to act, shooting off a thin Water Gun.

His eyes widened and he dove forward into the running waters of the creek, preferring dampness to death from the water move rushing just above his head. Caught prone, the meowstic is unable to recover in time before another Water Gun makes a direct hit, tossing him back. He landed on the rocky creek-bed with a splash, a thud, and a groan.

In the instant, she found the Blast Seed in her satchel's innermost pocket. She ignored her still smarting injuries to glance behind once again, seeing the Grovyle with Leaf Storm nearly at the ready. Feeling the hard shell of the seed in her digitless paw, she knew what to do.

"Meowstic!" she cried, earning a momentary glance. "DUCK!"

No time wasted, he shielded his head with his arms. With the last of all her strength, she flung the Blast Seed like a sniper's bullet.

Flying fast, the organic grenade slammed into the ground, detonating. The resulting explosion ripped through the forest in a sound greater than most, echoing and ringing from the trees and hillside. A moment later, and all was silent.

When the smoke cleared, and the dust settled, Katherine was the first to stand, dizzy and with ringing ears. She stumbled over to the ever-flowing creek, and found her counterpart alive, a few yards from the crater. She looked about for any sign of their assailants…

… but they were gone.

* * *

><p>"... Are you alright?" he asked, leaning on her shoulder as they both inched the last few into the safety of the cave.<p>

"I should be fine…"—she turned to him—"…didn't expect to see you out here," she said, stopping at the back wall.

He flinched as he sat, feeling aches and pains in every joint, bone, and muscle in his body. He coughed. "Me neither," he replied.

She blinked, and reached for her trusty satchel, retrieving Christopher's medicine. Two berries. Sitrus and Lum.

"Eat these," she said. "They'll make you better."

Weakly taking them from her paws, he chewed each one. Not swallowing until practically the whole digestion process was finished. Suddenly, he was racked with pain. He keeled over, clenching his stomach, much to the panic of his counterpart.

"Are—what's going on?" she said frantically.

"Those berries—!" he moaned, trying to keep calm. "They're poisoned."

"What?! He…"

* * *

><p>"<em>You know, you always let your heart get in the way of things."<em>

"_No… things get in the way of my heart."_

"_Well… you'd best get it out of the way… see you."_

* * *

><p><em>Damn you, Chris! <em>"I…" she murmured, her voice breaking for the first time in a long while. "…I'm sorry."

He coughed. "It's okay… You didn't know, right…? Your thoughts… they seem clean enough."

She shook her head in answer of the question.

"… What I can do to help?

"Not," he winced, "… Not unless you're a doctor who knows… and… and has a satchel stocked with bandages… I wouldn't last another day"—he breathed sharply—"anyway."

She hung her head, and the cave was silent for a long while.

"W-Why didn't you kill me?" he asked suddenly, starting to recover. "When you had the chance?"

"Why would I?" she replied, and suddenly, she knew exactly why she didn't kill the injured, sick, cold, and mute meowstic. Because why would she? "We're both victims, we're both homeless, we're the same species… we just don't wear the same colors."

He sat up, and hacked a chuckle, "In more ways than one!" He coughed, and a moment passed. His smile faded into a sigh. Looking out of the cave, he asked, "… Why doesn't everyone else see that?"

Upon this question pose, pause did she in suppose. She looked upon his injured form, his expression so forlorn. She knew then, what helpless was, she knew then his death need not be inferred. With a saddened sigh, she too looked outside in search of words, then came an answer… so absurd.

"They don't," she said, "but they can learn."

And the cave was silent once again.

_Inspired by those who think._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_

_I have been dead lately, haven't I? Well, I guess this'll be your socially awkward message of "Hey! I'm still here!"_

_Anyway, this has been Shatterbelt Part 2: Silence Cave. In case you're wondering what a violin has to do with all this, plot point pending. (; ^ ^ ) __I'll also be happy to take critiques. I found a few errors just looking over this again, so I'm pretty sure there's more._

_Thanks for reading! _じゃ ね！


	3. Parallel

**~Parallel~**

_"It is better to light a candle than it is to curse the darkness."  
>—Chinese Proverb<em>

* * *

><p><em>Liam<em>

"Where are we going?" I asked, seeing my brother's frenzied packing of our one small bag. Everything we needed of what we had was haphazardly stuffed inside that courier's container. I had never seen him like this before, and it worried me.

I was a young eevee, then. Too young to even have a name, I suppose. We were waif by the time I was three. My brother called me Liam, though, said our parents thought it would be a good one. I always admired him for that.

We lived in a small isolated enclave on the outskirts of Crionac, a peaceful community, but shunned and shut up. I guess it's how we survived as long as we did. One day, we began taking visitors from the Yissu province many miles to the southeast. They spoke of terrible things, how the Golden Fang conquered its neighbors. They warned this place may be next—especially since the fall of Crionac.

"To the other side, give or take," he muttered. "We're gonna cross the border."

Having finished packing, he grabbed my arm, and dragged me towards the mountains of the rising sun.

"Why?" I had asked, knowing nothing.

I remember faintly, these tales I would hear from him. Stories about people who were happy, rich, and free.

Freedom was a concept my brother had tried to show me that day. I had always known it was something good. I just didn't know it was something to die for. He had tried explaining it to me beforehand, saying that, if we had lived on the other side, the secret police wouldn't exist, we wouldn't have to live in isolation from the rest, and that our parents would still be alive. I had dreams of being free because of that. We all did.

"Because that side is best for us," he replied simply, though I had already answered my own question by then.

I don't remember much of the hour-long walk on the way to town. Though, I do recall a certain thing he said to me, a thing about long walks.

"If we're going to the other side, why are we going to town?" was my innocent query. I was instantly scolded.

"Shh!" he nearly spat. "With what we brought, we won't last a day! We need equipment."

"What's equipment?" I asked further. Though, I should've asked why it would take a day.

The faintest of smiles appeared on his face. He ruffled the unkept fur atop my head, "Keep walking."

I did not know how many hours passed since we left, but I knew it was long. I remembered my dad, what I was told of him, how he would always leave the house saying that he was going to town for supplies. I never knew the walk was this long, and he did it everyday. Everyday, for us.

But I wasn't thinking that then.

"Are we there yet?" I groaned.

"You think this is long?" he chuckled, "Liam, it's always the walk home that's the longest."

* * *

><p>Nothing much happened in town. I wondered why he brought me. He moved with a sense of urgency and purpose, dragging me to this shop and that. Until we came upon the storefront of an empty business. Though, I could see a single person tending the counter.<p>

My brother huffed, "This is it, Liam."

"But the border—"

"Shut it!" he scolded. "What did I tell you?"

"Oh. Um… But _home_ is down that road again."

"I know. But it's too dangerous that way. We're taking another route."

"Where?"

"You'll see," he said, ushering me inside.

As I walked through the door, I also walked through a wall of scents. I had never seen the inside of a proper pharmacy, and it astounded me, to see shelves twice my height and quadruple that in length. All stocked with foods, medicines, and gadgets. It would've been an immaculate scene if it weren't for the dust. How long those things have sat on the shelves, I will never know.

There was a counter towards the back of the store. A pikachu manned its desk with a small grin. He greeted us with an unnaturally unforced cheer. "Welcome to Crionac pharmacy! I haven't had a customer since I was hired."

I could see my brother's minimal frown. It was clear this was not what he was expecting.

He cleared his throat. "Hullo… Is there a Christopher around here? He's normally the clerk, you see…"

At the mention, the young man shifted in his posture, shuffling his paws. "Oh, Chris. Let's see… how do I put this in front of children…? He's… gone."

I was nearly startled when I heard the march of Golden Fang footfalls outside. I cast a wary glance behind to see a pawniard sitting on the ground, back leaning against the storefront.

"W-What?" he sputtered, trying his best to mask his surprise.

"Yes… and so suddenly too! I wonder what happened to 'im… Not to worry, though. I still offer the same services."

He winked.

"Oh! Um… Well in that case… you wouldn't happen to have any applesauce would you?" my brother asked. I tilted my head at an angle of confusion.

"Why yes we do," he replied with a dash of enthusiasm. He pulled out a jar of applesauce from under the counter. "We have this variety. It sells for two crowns a jar. We also have another kind out back if you're interested."

"The one in storage…" he began carefully, "is it free?"

It was at this time that the clerk gave the slightest of sly smiles. "Why yes. It is," he replied with a short chuckle.

"I'll be glad to let you have it, but first I must verify your membership! Tell me, what's your name?"

"Faizel," he answered. "Faizel Taylor. This is my brother, Liam. You'll find him listed as 'Eevee'."

"Why hello there, little Liam!" he greeted. I shyly hid my face as he turned to my brother. "Excuse me, Mr. Taylor, while I retrieve the membership log."

He nodded as the clerk disappeared into the back room. I took the opportunity to tug on his fur. When he looked, I pointed to the soldier sitting outside. By now, another had joined him, this one standing. I couldn't hear their chatters as my brother bent over to whisper.

"Don't worry 'bout them," he said. "The less you pay attention to them, the less they pay attention to you. Got it?"

"Yup."

It was then that the clerk appeared in the doorway to the back room. "I checked, it seems there is a leafeon and eevee under those names after all!" he said. "Now, the crate is a little heavy. If you wouldn't mind, I would like some help."

"Of course," he said, leading me around the counter, and through the first of two doorways.

* * *

><p>"Now I say, I wish I had names as unique as yours! I'm stuck with Sparky, ugh…" he cringed as he said that. "Your parents must be very creative!"<p>

"They were," he muttered.

Sparky cleared his throat. "My apologies, Mr. Taylor… Ah! Here. We can't travel in the day, so I suggest you rest here 'til tonight. I will wake you and escort you to the border myself. Good night—er—day!"

He gently closed the door, and instantly, it was night in the room. The only light of day came from the gap under the door. It was a brilliant white, and I stared at it like a moth does a fire.

"Fai?" I said, tugging his leg once I found it. "It's dark."

"Well, you know what mom always said…"

I heard the strike of a match, and shut my eyes against the sudden glare of the flame, a new world of light blinking into existence, overwhelming the light from the doorway. Carefully setting it on the floor, he pulled a candle out of his bag, and held it in his jaws, setting the wick to the fire. I saw the fleeting trail of smoke as he blew out the match, the candle now lighted.

"… 'Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness'," he quoted, staring into the flame. It was something he always quoted. "Don't tell anyone I stole these…"

"… Mom. What was she like?" I asked suddenly poking at the floor.

He sighed. "She was… the sweetest, most kind person you could ever meet. I—I wish you were old enough to remember…"

"But, I'll meet her someday!" I chirped eagerly, sitting up. "You said! One day, we'll get to fly up and see her in the sky."

He smiled something small. "Just hope it's not tonight," he said patting my head. "Now go to sleep, Liam. We'll need all the energy we can get."

* * *

><p><em>It was night, and it was raining. I didn't think of it then, but the moon was out despite the drizzle. A moonshower I guess. I looked up to see a line in the sand a stone's throw from me, and I knew it was the parallel. <em>

_I suddenly felt terrified. For no reason at all, I could start to feel my own heartbeat. Quick, and light. I realized that there was no sound, either that, or I was deaf. _

_But I suddenly knew I wasn't deaf when I heard his squeaky voice from behind._

_"__Fai?"_

_Liam was a blur in my sight, without form in my eyes. A colored silhouette, speaking to me surrounded by silent, moonlit rain._

_ "__It's really weird…"_

_My fur began to feel heavy and damp, I could start to see his form fade into focus. He was there, but I knew there something… wrong. Something very wrong._

_ "__I can't feel the rain."_

_I heard the thunder clap in wails, and saw the rain fall as tears._

_Then somebody knocked at the door._

* * *

><p>"Hey, wake up!" I said, rocking him by the shoulder. "It's nighttime."<p>

"Kid's right, Mr. Taylor," the pikachu said. "If you're leaving tonight, you're leaving now."

He stretched himself awake before sitting up, yawning. "… That time already?"

Sparky gestured with his head towards the exit, "Let's go," he said.

The moon lit our way with silver. I could feel the cool breeze against my face while my brother ushered me along, Sparky leading us parallel to the road we took going in. I had never run so long or far in my life.

"Hopefully this jog'll be the hardest part," Sparky said, not nearly out of breath. "If nothing's changed, I can lead you in and out of the border in no time! Now hurry along, we have to get past the patrols in time."

The forest alongside the road leading into town was thick. It was easy to get confused, and we almost lost track of Sparky a number of times. He moved unnaturally fast. Swift, like a bird.

"Ah! Here we are."

We stepped into the clearing and froze as we did. Four pawniard and one bisharp stood in a line, each with a band of gold about their arms. The bisharp had a distinguished air of dignity as leader and officer, commander of the situation quite literally. Sparky walked ahead to stand next to them, planting his feet firmly by their side. We stepped back in terror, knowing, now, what he had done to us.

Sparky sighed with a sullen mask. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor," he said. "But I'm afraid that, before we go any further, I must introduce you to Lieutenant Meade. A friend, from the Golden Fang."

I hid behind Faizel as the officer stepped forward. The others readied range attacks, and my brother his Energy Ball. I cowered and couldn't help but start to cry. It wasn't supposed to end like this. We weren't supposed to get caught. She frowned, and turned to snap at her entourage. Their blades lowered, but Fai kept his aim.

She turned to us, and spoke our language. We were surprised at her fluency.

"So," she chided, disregarding the Energy Ball threat, "why did you bring your sweet little brother along for the ride? You knew he'd only slow you down. You knew we'd catch up to you anyway."

He stepped forward, moving his arm in front of me protectively. Despite his nobel, stoic glare, I knew he was scared. His legs were shaking. Finally, he quit his move to speak.

"I had to try," he said.

She made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Try! Quite the card you played there! One does not simply _try_ to cross the parallel. Not only is it foolish. Why, it is betrayal!"

"Against who?"

The officer made a face, as if shocked. "Why, the Greater Sapphiria, of course! Abandoning your sovereign to a state that caused all this misery, Mister…"

"Taylor," Sparky reminded, much to her irritation.

"Yes…" she calmly strode to our front. We recoiled slightly as she ripped Fai's bag from off his shoulder. She swung her arm, and everything inside spilled into the grassy soil of the forest clearing.

"Candles, matchsticks, bread," she listed, "compass, wood… a stick…"

"For poking things," Fai provided.

She continued, "… a rope, orbs, herbs, and an oran berry."—she glared at us—"You two are penniless waifs! Where did you get these provisions?"

Fai said nothing.

"You took them without due pay, of course!" she accused. "You realize you have stolen from children!"

"I have stolen for children," Fai corrected, keeping his defensive posture.

She growled, starting to pace. "You know, you remind me of a 'mon who worked the pharmacy down in Crionac," she remarked. Sparky seemed to smirk. "He was the man who led refugees North and out of this land. Into that accursed North! He would provide food, water, weapons, medicine—turning Sapphirians into foreigners."

Fai gritted his teeth, the weight of our betrayal finally setting in.

"His name was Christopher, and he was a traitor to our cause, wanting nothing more than the destruction of our great empire!" she huffed. "Well we got back at him. We laced his herbs with poison, and his drinks with acid. The people grew to hate him, and they came to us to dispose of him."

"You low-stooping dastard," Fai muttered. He never cursed before.

"Underhandedness demands underhandedness," she said. "Sapphiria was once a fertile land of order! Now, the blood of our enemies will make it fertile once again." she sighed deeply in digress. "But we will not kill you. You deserve something much worse."

I cringed, hiding, again, behind his leg.

"I suppose my next line ought to be 'angriefen', but alas, I will let you pass. Ahead are the borderlands. The Killing Fields of the Sapphirian Parallel. Born of the Golden Fang to keep our countrymen loyal. There die, and I will let you rot unburied as an example. However, if you return, we will forget this ever happened. It's your choice, Mr. Taylor. Live, or die. Even with all this junk, you are still ill-equipped to cross with your lives~"

That was the note by which they departed back south down the road. She, with Sparky and the other soldiers. When all had passed, we just stood there, as if their presence alone had snuffed our resolve. Then the rain began to fall. I remember how the moon seemed to be a master of alchemy, turning rain into metal with that lustrous sheen, and back to water as it hit my skin. I was thankful for that rain. It masked my tears as Fai gathered up our soaked scattered things. When he had finished, he bowed his head to my eyes.

"We're not going to listen to her," he instructed. "We are going North. We will cross that border, and we're gonna live to tell all our new friends about it. Do you understand? We're gonna live. Say it with me, we're gonna live."

"We're gonna live."

He patted my head, "Good, good. Now follow me. Don't_ ever_ lose sight of my tail. Promise me that."

"I will never lose sight of your tail."

"Okay…" he breathed. "Let's go."

They say greener grass lies on the fence's other side, but what if that fence is a mile wide? It was midnight when we entered the so-called Killing Fields. I've heard wild things about the Killing Fields, how the path through would change every time one would enter, and how it would spit out any unfortunate enough to perish in there. I heard it would empty the stomach, and prolong the light of day or dark of night. Fai was once an apprentice at a guild before the Golden Fang came to influence. I remember he called it a dungeon. _"The most trap-laden sonofagarbodor dungeon in Verus!"_ he said.

Oh, what a perfect term to describe it.

I was given the strict order to stay exactly one pace behind him as he meticulously picked through the woodland, ever vigilant of pitfalls, Toxic Spikes, voltorb mines, and trip wires. He told me of the dream he had, how it was raining like it was now, how I appeared like a ghost. It scared me, these things, but he swore to me that if anything were to happen, it would happen to him.

I didn't know whether to be thankful, or worried.

The trees, giants in the woods, stood tall. High, mighty, and old, the branches were bent down, as if to pluck us out. The rain fell harder, and the mud ran over the traps, concealing them beneath our paws. Fai held the stick in his maw, poking at the ground looking for traps. He pierced the earth five times for every step. Once in front, twice on each side. In a certain yard, he found a dozen Toxic Spikes. He was pricked by one, but didn't make much of it. I think he was just trying to keep me calm.

There, at last, came a time that night when the only thing denying us our goal was a single ten-foot deep, and ten-foot tall field of wires that stretched down and over the hills on either side. It was as if I looked through shattered glass, where the shards cut through the foliage. The edges held bits of dew from the rain that scintillated in the moonlight. The winking drops had the manner of eyes, watching us, mocking us.

The wires were set at least a foot off the ground. Only the first wire was too low for either of us to pass under. I wondered if we could use a stick to prop up the wire, but the one we had was useless. Though Fai was able to find one among the nearby trees. It looked sturdy, but the rain was still pouring. The ground had turned to mud beneath our feet, and I could hear him mumble something, as if it wouldn't hold.

"Stay back," he said.

I hid behind a tree as he carefully set the stick underneath the wire such that it sat in the confluence of two branches. Gingerly, he lifted the wire. I watched as a hill was raised in the wire, revealing a near-open path to the other side. Never before was freedom so tantalizingly close. But something was wrong, Fai stopped.

"These wires… they're too small. I can't fit through…" he said. "If we raise this stick any higher, it'll trigger the traps… Liam, you can make it."

I couldn't believe what he was saying, or rather, what he implied. How could I leave him behind? Who would I be to do that?

"You'll have to go, Liam… I can't fit through."

"No," I whined. "No, no!"

"I know you're tired, you've been walking all night—I'm tired too. But you have to do it! For Mother, Dad, me… Do it for us."

"NO! Faizel! Please!" I wept, the tears went unhindered. How could he say that? Me, abandon him? All we had left were the brothers in each other, and now he wanted to do away with that? Like we didn't have to set aside our thoughts of parents and childhood, dreams of being rich and famous? All that… gone like that? Washed away in the rain of a moonlit shower?

"Fai…" I whimpered. "I want to go home."

He swiped me at the scruff of the neck. "Listen up, Liam! Home is across this wire now! We have no place, no reason to be cursed to this side of the border! What would Mom think? Us, getting all the way here—just to turn back? Because of a few strings?! No, we can't give up here—you can't give up here!"

There was a minute when none of us said anything, and I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to accept leaving without him to lead the way. I would be lost. A stranger in a strange world. It was the wrong place to be, and I would be the wrong one to cross.

"I promise," he said, "we'll meet again."

"No…"

"Now go," he demanded, "and wipe those tears off your face. It's time you be a grown-up."

I sat there, feeling something terrible, but my youth had no words to express them. I didn't know these things, pain, regret… all of the above. Eventually, with him gently pushing me along, I inched across the rain-drenched mud, there was nothing in my small mind except terror. The disaster that would unfold if the flimsy stick holding up the wire somehow fell, or snapped. Cold, dirty, tired, I didn't notice Fai's nudges at my paw pads fade away as I crawled beyond his reach.

I made it to the other side, but I didn't feel any more happy. There was only the vast and empty fields that were strewn before me. The ground was no more fertile, the light no brighter. It felt empty… It couldn't be that easy.

I turned, and cried out in horror to what Fai was doing. Wordlessly, he toppled the stick with another, and the trap wires fell again to their original place of rest. Never before had I felt a severance so complete. He stood straight, and looked across the parallel to me. I saw him cry for the first time.

"… Take care, Liam," he said, and turned, walking away.

"FAI!" I screamed, but it went unheard. Instead he quickened his pace, sprinting. In the moment, he disappeared over the hill.

Never before had I felt abandonment so total. I was furious, I was devastated. Of all the times life has stabbed me, it was my own brother who finally stabbed my heart.

* * *

><p>Life was only worse a few days after I stumbled into that forgotten town. It was the largest settlement I had ever seen, where the buildings looked down at me, and the people turned a blind eye. While in Sapphiria, I was far from town when measured by miles, I was far from them by many things, even though I lived in their streets. I walked with them, but only as their shadow. I always thought I would meet a fellow Sapphirian, and we would become friends, and share our tales of the border. To this day, I don't know if anyone else made it through.<p>

Nothing of what I wanted, nothing of what I dreamed about was here. Everything I was promised were falsehoods. So it was for another year. I grew bitter, violent, corrosive company. I thought I was honoring my family by making that choice, crossing that border… but now I see that I have disgraced them.

I was living in darkness. Now, I was dying in the light.

~END~

_Inspired by Korea's 38th Parallel and the Israel-Gaza conflict._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_

_Apologies if anything seems inconsistent. This has gone through a few revisions—plus I changed a few names last-minute.  
><em>_I wouldn't be surprised if you find edit-tags, but if you do, you'll be thanked to tell me!  
><em>_Personally, I'm a bit reluctant to publish this. It seems unfinished to me for some reason... but hey, this is probably the longest single chapter I've ever written—topping at 4000 words. So I guess it's not all bad._

_Fret not, this is not the end of Liam's tale (although it does say so in all-caps). Epilogue—next!_  
><em>Also, a special thanks to Knightfall66 for including Sapphiria in his PMD: Overthrown universe. Without, I wouldn't know where the main characters would be going in the first place.<em>

_So, happy reading! ( ^ ^)_


	4. Epilogue (Candlelight)

**SHATTERBELT**

~Candlelight~

* * *

><p>Present day…<p>

_ To this day, when I walk the streets, something happens to me. It happens when I see what I've come to know as the greatest duo of all. To see how they frolic in parks and play in the playgrounds. It's as if all is fair in the world, like a dream. It was when I saw these things, walking down a crowded street, I suddenly felt alone, like the pokemon I brush shoulders with simply fade away. It wasn't *just* loneliness, nor anything I knew to describe… but I would still like to know the word for such a feeling._

_ Still, despite these things, I can't help but smile when that fantastic duo called family crosses my stare, parents and children. It reminds me of the short time I had with one, what little I can still remember. It reminds me that I'm still alive, even though I'm always wondering. What is it like? It's a question of life that kills me. It's kinda funny how fate answers questions like those._

_ I was reminded, somewhat, what family was like when I met a mienfoo I've grown to call Uncle Fish. He discovered me under the pier. He offered to take me to a faraway place, said he needed work done while he was away on the dealings of a merchant. With the prospect of room, board, and money… of course I accepted._

_ I found myself realizing fantasies of adventure on the high seas. Rolling waves, fierce storms, tales of captains, battleships, and pirates… His was a sea-faring culture. I was enthralled with the land to which we sailed, always wanting to learn more, and Fish was always willing to tell more._

_ It seemed too soon when the ship dropped anchor, and I, still the unevolved youngster that Faizel sent off, stood in awe of the thriving place called Irad Harbor. I saw the captains, I saw the battleships._

_ For once, what I had been promised was true, and I forgot Sapphiria._

_ Fish patted my back then, "Well done, son," he said. "You just crossed an ocean." But I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very small._

_ There wasn't much of a welcome. People were always wary of foreigners. I found this new place was home to a lot of Sapphirians… but they were all Yissui. Even though one of them was a neighbor, I couldn't relate to them much. We were different people from the same country._

_ So life went on quietly for me in the outskirts of Irad Harbor. I was raised well under Fish's wing. He was very mild, but didn't mind though discipline. One time, I was spreading rumors about how my neighbor would steal from us while we were away. It was a lie, of course. I needed an explanation for anything missing, since I was still in the habit of stealing myself._

_ In response, he had me spread sand over the grasslands around our property._

_ "That's it?" I asked._

_ "Nope. Pick 'em up. All of them. Then you'll know just how hard it is to take back what you say. Especially with a rumor like this. Even the shopkeeper heard about this!"_

_ "But—"_

_ "You won't sleep until you do! I counted ten thousand grains. Get to it, Liam! If I catch you cheating, you'll miss dinner for the rest of the week too."_

_ I sighed, masking a groan._

_ "When you're finished," he continued, "do as you've done with the sand. Go into town, and pick up every grain of rumor you spread. Restore Patrick's good name, and he may just forgive you."_

_ His presence… it changed me. Completely. I even developed an interest in this concept. Justice. Not the kind that breaks a crooked stick, but straightens it out. Fish didn't end problems, he found solutions._

_ There came a time when I was old enough, he sent me away from Irad for a university in the capital, New Providence. I had just evolved at the age of 19, and it was there I met my roommate, a dragonair. She studied Biology. I worked on Law Enforcement and Carenian History (another subject that interested me)._

_ Whenever she had time, she would often read these stories—out loud. I was often studying when she did so, and for a while, it was an annoyance. I often internally blamed her for a failing grade… Low flames take a while to boil water, but they boil, nonetheless. Often with overcooked contempt under a flame of familiarity._

_ One night, I was about to fall asleep when she asked me from the opposite bunk, the top one where she always was. "Where are you from, exactly? I've never heard you speak Yissui."_

_ Then, I remembered Sapphiria, and the tears suddenly went freely. Everything came back. I never knew how soft I really was. I thought I stopped shedding them years ago._

_ She must've heard me then, because next I knew, I heard her peek under from her bed. "Hey…" she said with a hint of guilt. "Are you okay?"_

_ I quickly turned to face the wall too afraid and too ashamed to show a tear._

_ But I felt the firm of her tail pull me over until I again faced her way. She had since left her bunk for the floor, and now lowered her head to level with mine, as Faizel had done before we entered the Killing Fields. More tears leaked into the pillow in laminar streams. She patted my shoulder, and with a single glance in the eye she told me words unspoken. "Do not be afraid, do not be ashamed." I tried to be neither, and I gave my answer._

_ "I… I'm not Yissui," I replied, trying not to squeak. "I'm—I'm from Crionac, miss… They speak a different language there._

_ Her pupils widened in inference. "So you must've crossed—"_

_ "The Parallel—miss. When I was four." I questioned whether I was really four, but the subconscious is often a terrible liar._

_ Slowly, she lowered her head and nodded. "I see…"_

_ There was a tense moment. Neither of us seemed to know a word to speak. It was almost painful how uncomfortable it was. Had I just spilled my life's story to a stranger in but a few sentences? What would she think?_

_ "Listen…" she said. "Liam, is it? You must hate me for reading my book so much—everyone does… We haven't really talked to each other before, so… I think I should read you something… I couldn't imagine how a guy like you could cross that place."_

_ Her tail reached over to her desk, where she gently pulled the worn, unbound pages. It was, of course, the book she always read. She dropped it on my bed, and proceeded to flip through the pages—somewhat awkwardly given she only had her tail._

_ I sat up onto my haunches as she spoke. "I've always been bullied because I believe what this says. They think I'm superstitious, overzealous. Some'd rather believe in Arceus," she said. "I'm sure you weren't liked too well... us Carenians don't like foreigners... gaijin, right?"_

_ "Gaijin…" I said, too familiar with the phrase. "It's a Yissui word. Means 'outlander'."_

_ She nodded, "So I've heard. There's a lot of Yissui in this country." and continued flipping until she found her page._

_ "Would you believe it?" she mused. "All this time we've never had a conversation… but you seem to be a really gentle guy!"_

_ I chuckled softly, unexpecting of her compliment. Gentle? Was that a nicer word for "wuss"? I would disagree, but why would I tell her that?_

_ "I uh… I actually asked the councilor for your file," she said reluctantly. "I was wondering what happened before you came here… it's why I asked…"_

_ A moment more passed._

_ "Here it is," she said. "Listen to this," and suddenly, she started reading._

_ "'The Lord is my shepherd'," she began, "'I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters.'" She looked up to see if I was paying attention. I was._

_ She continued, voice carrying the power and intrigue as a storyteller by a campfire. I remembered how Faizel would tell me stories before tucking me into bed. They seemed so similar. I found my tears had dried._

_"'He restoreth my soul,  
>he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.<em>

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  
>I will fear no evil.<em>

_For thou art with me,  
>thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.<em>

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies,  
>thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.<em>

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,  
>and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'"<em>

_ And as quickly as it began, it ended, and the room was silent once again. "How was that?" she said in beaming query. "What does it remind you of?"_

_ I spoke before I had words. "… My brother. He… he brought me to the line, but… he couldn't come with me."_

_ Of the tears I shed that day, nearly all were for me. Self pity and shame. Only one was for Faizel. Only one. Shed that very moment. "Truth without words", as my dad once put it, or so my brother told me._

_ "But he did," she replied, poking her tail at my heart. "In here. And if not in here, then,"—she pointed towards the ceiling—"up there."_

_ I tilt my head at an angle of confusion._

_ "Just don't be sad," she relented. "Don't be, because everyone has a destiny, whether they choose theirs or not, a purpose! Faizel fulfilled his when he went with you. Your mother and father's when they raised you—however long they were able to do so."_

_ I was still looking down, so she tapped me on the shoulder._

_ "The only true tragedy is one in vain. Don't let their sacrifices be in vain, Liam. Chin up, live life like they wanted you to. Alright?"_

_ Reluctantly, I nodded._

* * *

><p>"And that's my story—sir," he finished.<p>

The chief laid back in his chair, stretching a bit. "Have you ever thought of becoming a writer, Officer Taylor?" he asked suddenly.

"No, sir. Why?"

"You seem decent with your words. Barely decent." The smeargle yawned, "Just a thought, Taylor. I mean, I once dreamt of becoming an artist because… you know. Smeargle and such…"

The umbreon nodded.

"Well," he said, standing up, "It's been a pleasure to hear your story. To be honest, I've always been wondering—ever since I hired you."

"Glad I could be of help—sir," Liam replied, also standing.

"You know my name, don't you? Call me Mark—and try to get rid of that… that thing when you say 'sir'." He gestured with his arm towards the door. "After you."

With a slight nod, he turned to leave.

"Oh, one more thing."

He glanced back, "Yes?"

"We have a new recruit starting his first day tomorrow. I already gave him the tour but, uh… Let's just say he's the forgetful type. Mind working with him for a few days?"

Liam shook his head. "Not at all—Mark."

"You know what? That's too strange coming out of your mouth. Just stick to 'sir', Taylor! Ja ne."

Liam left the police chief's office that day, somehow with a new sense of dignity. He sighed as he exited the building, greeted by cloudy skies and a slight rain. He sighed as he started on down the street, homeward bound. The smell of rain contributed to a certain air of peace, even amongst the noise crowds. He walked with his thoughts, and they walked well together

"Life is good…" he said, mumbling to himself.

"Life is good if you know why to live."

**To be continued…  
><strong>_Inspired by the Good Books._


End file.
